A Strange New Horizon [IC | Closed]

[Verore]

"Sounds like a good plan," Zaahir said, confident in Aiyana's plan, "you choose the stalls to hit and we'll back you up."

Zaahir grinned as he brought his men into a huddle and told them what they'll be doing. Grins of mecheif and greed on their faces as they broke the huddle, ready to fill their pockets to the brim with loot.

"I think our priority should be speed though. If we can't crack a lock open we should bother fiddling with it. I'd say we could make more cash faster by hitting a jeweler though."

“Agreed. CAW CAW!”

As soon as Aiyana’s bird call was made, her five archers looked at each other. They were unsure if it was Aiyana or a real bird, scaring the pants off them before the battle even began. What if it wasn’t Aiyana? She’ll be so upset if we shoot before she says so. But what if it is her and they don’t fire? She’ll be even more upset! In a panic, the group scrambled to string their bows and aim at the town guards sitting around. They all had years of experience practicing with bows, so a few seconds later, when they did fire, it actually went in the general direction of their target. Even if none of them hit, this was an accomplishment if no one shot themselves in the foot again.

Aiyana never felt prouder than at that moment, but there was no time for being emotionally touched. Confident in her skills and in her faith that her new friends would back her up, Aiyana charged toward the jewelers stand, attempting to Superman punch a mercenary guarding it. Less equipped, less armored and possibly less skilled than the guard, but she didn’t care. As long as her team didn’t bail now, this fight seemed very winnable. She could end up with a mortal wound, but what’s one spear wound compared to how much they’ll get? Nothing.

Zaahir piled in right behind, with his men right on his heels. He quickly went around to jab the mercenary in the chest, his men running by as they swarmed around the stand, grabbing what they could. The feeling of thrusting a weapon not at a boar or some other mundane animal, but a real human being gave Zaahir a twisted thrill he silently regretted as the small band of thieves raided the stall.

[G-Tech Corporation]

En Route to Jonestown, High Seas
January 9th

As the Comercio continues her inaugural journey in the waters of the New World, the crew spot many wondrous sights. Lights in the sky the color of emerald and purple, dancing at the hour of midnight. Strange creatures beneath the waves, following the ship, their bodies so large as to make the simple scud-runner look like a rowboat. One day, though, a particularly bizarre event occurs. It is near the hour of evening, the last watch before dusk, when a thunderclap is heard from the clear sky; at the apex of the mast of the vessel a ball of blue-white light hangs, the air crackling with energy. Slowly it descends toward the deck, as the crew looks on in amazement, or perhaps horror.

Derelict Temple, Urd Kazara

The energy of the icon enfolds the three men, naked and shivering in the damp, and it surges with eldritch force. Whungun and his compatriots are transformed, tall, strong, terrible to behold... but this time, at least, they retain their sanity. Under layers of muscle and claw still look out the minds of mortal men, their strength that of the Bloodmoon. The Hunt is begun. The sound of the transformation, the cracking of bone, the reshaping of sinew, echoes down into the depths of the temple.

Marketplace, Oneidas

The shooting of the bowmen is respectable, all things considered- three arrows find their mark, one in the merchant's shoulder, one grazing his guard's arm, the last deflecting off of a piece of armor the guard wears. The merchant yells in alarm and pain, and the twang of the bowstrings is not unnoticed- with cries that bespeak dismay and anger, the city guards converge from where they stand about the square. One of them, though, does not run toward the attackers, instead toward the north exit of the marketplace. Men and women scatter as Aiyana charges toward the jewler's stall, her fist swinging with malicious intent.

Her swing, though, goes wide, and passes harmlessly through the air to rap her knuckles hard against the wooden struts of the jewler's stall. The guard, caught flat-footed, can do little more than snarl at his assailant; a shove to the chest causes the war-chief to stumble backwards a small distance, and the guard draws a short club from his belt-loop, watching the attacker for her next move. He holds the club in his right hand, the arm not injured by an arrow, and seems to be keeping the injured arm away from his opponent. Behind him the merchant seems to be fumbling under his stall, his face white with shock and his shoulder bleeding freely.

[Darksworth]

Zachary woke up with a start, his head was ringing and his clothes were wringed with sand and water.

Where the hell am I?

He slowly lifted himself up and dusted his attire, removing as much debris from the garments as possible. Good thing that his armor clung on to him while he was knocked out, and even more grateful that it didn't drown him. And along with that piece of equipment, Zachary still had his Cutlass and sheated in it's scabbard along with the hatchet swinging in his belt. With the Cutlass being the only reliable weapon he has as of now. He then glanced around, taking in the environment and examining his situation.

Zachary seemed to be near the opening of a river, connecting the almost never-ending sea to some water connection deeper inland. Speaking of inland, he doesn't even know what part of the New World continent this inland belonged to! It had been a couple days since the wrecking of the ship and he can't believe that he managed to even survive the trek from almost the middle of the Atlantic ocean to the Western continent, in one piece of course.

The lost English man shuffled nearer to the edge of the coast, which was littered with planks and barrels. Presumably from his makeshift life-boat which he used as a contemporary shelter against the oceanic elements. And flipped over several of the wood pieces, up until he found the thing he was looking for.

The map itself wasn't anything special, it was drawn using the blood of fishes, and Zachary wasn't even sure if he got the scale and positioning correct. But this has been his guideline when he was lost in the grasps of the sea, and he's also pretty sure that it'll be his guideline once more.

Zachary turned around and walked towards the direction of the forests, to atleast find civilization somewhere in this damn continent, whether it'd be native or European. But before that happened however, he tripped on something, hitting his face first in one of the planks.

Oh for god's sakes!

He quickly pushed himself up and got ready to unleash his rage on said object that must've tripped him, with the soles of his shoe as the executioner, but he managed to stop himself once he saw what it was. A flintlock pistol, the one he had used to hunt for food in the oceans, now lie like a helpless rabbit in the sands of the coast.

Zachary can only sigh to himself before picking it up and holstering it on his belt, good thing that the gunpowder wasn't that wet, or else the gun would've been unable to fire.

The English man took one last look at his map and marked one location, a native settlement near him that was named "Und Karaza" or something of the sorts. He then pocketed the piece of cartographic illustration and unsheathed his Cutlass, heading to the general direction of the settlement. With an unsure thought in his mind of to whether attack the potentially savage populace or try to negotiate. Zachary might just wing it along the way.

[Ralnis]

Derelict Temple,
Und Karazan

The deep growling of the werebeasts feel the air but the minds of Whungun and his servants were in control. The dark room became illuminated as their eyesight became elevated and smells of the air came from the dead around them but they could hear the sound of movement within the lower levels. They sounded small and were numerous, Whungun still had a human interest but the beast was hungry and the maws were drooling with anticipation.

With superhuman swiftness, the beasts move on all fours down the level to stalk the half-men and seek to ambush them in the darkness. It was a practice of skill within their beast forms to try and hunt armed prey and get a hold of the profound strength.

[ApplePieistan]

Being pushed back by the mercenary was rather demoralizing for Aiyana, as was seeing how Zaahir’s men aren’t participating in the fighting, just looting. With the merchant probably about to pull out a pistol and the mercenary being armored and dangerous, one would think you should secure the area first. There was no time to shout at them, though. At least Zaahir himself is helping, and he’s got a spear, unlike Aiyana’s bare fists. Being the team player she is, rather than going for another punch, Aiyana moves to grab the mercenary’s right arm while simultaneously sidestepping Zaahir’s spear. If all goes according to plan, it should leave the brawny merc wide open for the spearing.

For the archers, they felt feelings of great joy, immediately followed by worry and concern. Five guards were heading towards the archers, and they seemed rather angry. Aiyana might still need fire support, but they also need to save their own sorry hides. Without speaking with one another, the archer group unanimously decided to defend themselves. With the town guards all coming from different parts of the market, some were significantly closer to the archers than others. As such, these men took priority over the others, meaning the closest guard was fired at by three archers whereas the second closest was fired at by two archers.

[Novas Arcanum]

En Route to Jonestown, High Seas
January 9th

Gabriel had seen so many great things on his journey to Jonestown; the seas of the New World had a certain magic to it that the Mediterranean back home lacked.The great beasts of the deep and the dancing lights that lit the night sky would foster a childlike curiosity that enticed him to follow the wonders of the world till the very end.Still, he had a mission, and that was getting to Jonestown he prayed night and day that the ship would make it to their distant destination, but the Almighty had different plans it seemed.

It was close to evening, and Gabriel was manning the wheel, while the crewmen managed the deck. All of a sudden the air became charged with electricity and a loud thunderclap rattled the eardrums of the sailors. "Mios dios" Gabriel whispered as the ball of energy floated on the deck. Juan, Miguel, and Carlos instinctively bolted from the scene and ran behind Gabriel. Gabriel was shaking but tried to keep his composure. He kept his hand on his cutlass, but he wasn't sure if it would do him any good.

"Just what are you?" He said cautiously to the strange anomaly.

[Tysklandia]

Jonestown,year of Our Lord 1502


Thomas wandered the dirt roads of Jonestown, lost deep in thought as sludged through the mud. In the two weeks since the sudden and mutinious departure of the ship that had brought them here, they had been... stranded here in the new world. Of the dozen men that had been left behind with him, only 3 still followed his command, the others partially blaming him for their unfortunate situation and trying to find their own way to survive in this harsh frontiertown. He had already seen a few of them begging in the streets, glaring at him as he walks by. Even if they blamed him and his rational mind told him that he could not be truly responsible, a sense of responsibility and guilt still gnawed at him. But as he fingered the last few coins in his pocket, Thomas sighed. He barely had the money to feed those that had remained loyal to him, let alone to help the others.

He needed to find coin, one way or another, to feed himself his little band of loyalists and to perhaps convince the others aswel to rejoin him. To that effect he walked into a tavern, wearing his cutlas, his gunpowder weapon loosely in hand and his armor in pristine condition, a thing he spent most of last evening preparing. He had already looked around and tried to speak to whoever had a job on offer, he hoped he would find more offers in this tavern, something that he and his men could do to atleast buy them some supply of food and housing for the forseeable future. Untill he could think of a more long term plan.

ACTION: Attempt to find work (Mercenary, escort, security, labor as last resort)

[G-Tech Corporation]

North of Und Karaza

As Zachary walked south, the harsh landscape gave him some trouble; trees taller than the largest buildings he had seen in Europe towered over the landscape, thickets of wood with spikes sharp enough to draw blood occupying much of the land, the forests echoing with the cries of beasts and creatures which he could not identify. As he walked the sun grew hot overhead, though by his reckoning it was still winter, and his senses began to suffer from the lack of water and food. Eventually, as the sun sank toward the horizon, he happened upon a small creek that teemed with life; frogs sank upon its banks, and the soft burbling was a welcome respite from the calling of the insects and the savage animals.

Derelict Temple, Und Karaza

As the werebeasts stalk down in the darkness, they creep through the unfamiliar environment, seeking for prey. But something is off- movement they hear sometimes in the distance, but no scent of prey comes to the nostrils of the hunters, no thumping of soft hearts in fear. As Whungun passes a pillar in the pitch blackness a figure springs out at him, a whirl of teeth and claws! It seems that the werebeasts are ill-prepared for the strange vagaries of the half-men, and now they are in their turn ambushed.

Out of the darkness boil figures, barely glimpsed in the gloom, thin, emaciated perhaps, but the hands that grapple with the beasts are ferociously strong, hot as if burning with fever or an internal fire. Five of the creatures, manlike but not, assail the party, claws as long as spear-heads seeking purchase in the tough coats of the creatures.

Three half-men assault Whungun, eyes glowing a pale green in the darkness. A set of heavy claws scrapes on the shaman's forearm, thankfully turned by the magician's thick wolf-pelt, while another wicked barbed talon sinks into the flesh of his ribs, drawing thick crimson blood as the animal bounds away into the gloom. One more comes against the shaman, but he perceives its attack, and throws it to the side against a pillar before its claws can close about his neck. The creature seems unfazed, and merely stands there, half crouching, half standing, sickly eyes watching the shaman with predatory intent. The skin of the beast seems thin, stretched, as if dry parchment containing a skeleton only barely.

One more of the creatures warily circles one of Whungun's companions, looking for an opening, while the other appears to have left heavy claw-furrows in the back of the other werebeast. Its talons glint wetly in the near-blackness.

Market Square, Oneidas

Zaahir's spear thrust takes the mercenary in the chest, a blow solidly absorbed by one of the ceramic plates the man wears, driving him back for a moment and pushing the air from his lungs. Aiyana's grab goes wide as the man is driven back, and the mercenary backpedals to the side of the market-cart, resetting his stance and watching the attackers carefully. At his side the merchant produces a heavy cudgel, swinging it wildly towards Zaahir's men as they steal everything which is nailed down to the merchant's stall; he does not connect, but one of Aiyana's ally's men has to step back to avoid the blow, and quickly the men run back, bearing two small wooden chests that were the objects not locked away in the merchant's stall or chained to the table itself.

Elsewhere in the square the air hisses with arrows once more, but this time the archers' aren't quite as lucky. One of the shots at the first guard connects, taking him in the side, and he staggers to the side, apparently quite badly wounded despite the single hit. The second guard, though, and the three behind him converging on the archers, are missed entirely, and the first man thrusts his spear at one of the archers, who jinks and just barely avoids being gutted by the weapon.

There is no sign of reinforcements so far- the other merchant guards seem more interested in protecting their stalls than getting involved in the melee, and the robbers have some loot, but help is likely not long in coming.

En Route to Jonestown, High Seas
January 9th

Gabriel's words were ignored by the entity- if entity it was- and it idly sparked and swirled around in a small area. The hairs on the captain's arms stood on end, and a soft warmth came over the sailor, as if the heat of an open fire burned within the heart of the ball of white and blue light. Not a consuming fire, or a dangerous blaze, but a hearthfire burning to hold back the cold of a chill evening without clouds, when the stars seem very bright and close and the night indescribably dark.

Jonestown

A bit of asking around, a bit of cajoling men at their drinks for work... to very little avail. After a tale of some hours the only work Thomas can find for his crew is aboard a merchantman bound for Oneidas, their labor that of men who work the rigging and would be responsible for unloading the cargo once they arrived. It did not pay well, really- three Coin for each man for the week-long trip- but it would pay the bills, and moreover, get him to the mainland. The merchant ship left in the morning, so this was not a decision that could be contemplated long.

[Tysklandia]

Jonastown 1502

Thomas sighed as he waited on the docks, his three Flemish lads in attendance, grumbling, but at least present. It took him some effort to convince the men to board another ship for the coin they desperately needed, but the relatively short voyage and the prospect of more work and opportunity on the mainland convinced them in the end. They knew the labor they where expected to do, having spent months aboard the same ship that had stranded them here. Perhaps, I'd the winds were favourable, he could even use the spare time aboard to whip his boys into shape. If they could hold their own, they might even do more than just survive in this god forsaken land.

The coin they would receive on arrival would buy them time and good food and hopefully better paying work. And to be fair, if they were stuck in the new world, why not see more of it?



Action: take the job and travel to Oneidas

[Novas Arcanum]

Gabriel was enticed by the pulsating ball of energy, the warmth it gave felt good, and he found himself staring deep into the spark mesmerized by its beauty.

"¿Capitán?" Carlos said as he tapped Gabriels' shoulder. " ¿Estás bien? He said with concern.He turned to his fellow crewmen and did the hand gesture for the captain having gone loco.

"Estoy bien" Gabriel said dazedly "Now what in the name of the Virgin Mary is happening?"

Action: Try to discern the nature of the Ball

[Ralnis]

Derelict Temple, Und Karaza

As the werebeasts stalk down in the darkness, they creep through the unfamiliar environment, seeking for prey. But something is off- movement they hear sometimes in the distance, but no scent of prey comes to the nostrils of the hunters, no thumping of soft hearts in fear. As Whungun passes a pillar in the pitch blackness a figure springs out at him, a whirl of teeth and claws! It seems that the werebeasts are ill-prepared for the strange vagaries of the half-men, and now they are in their turn ambushed.

Out of the darkness boil figures, barely glimpsed in the gloom, thin, emaciated perhaps, but the hands that grapple with the beasts are ferociously strong, hot as if burning with fever or an internal fire. Five of the creatures, manlike but not, assail the party, claws as long as spear-heads seeking purchase in the tough coats of the creatures.

Three half-men assault Whungun, eyes glowing a pale green in the darkness. A set of heavy claws scrapes on the shaman's forearm, thankfully turned by the magician's thick wolf-pelt, while another wicked barbed talon sinks into the flesh of his ribs, drawing thick crimson blood as the animal bounds away into the gloom. One more comes against the shaman, but he perceives its attack, and throws it to the side against a pillar before its claws can close about his neck. The creature seems unfazed, and merely stands there, half crouching, half standing, sickly eyes watching the shaman with predatory intent. The skin of the beast seems thin, stretched, as if dry parchment containing a skeleton only barely.

One more of the creatures warily circles one of Whungun's companions, looking for an opening, while the other appears to have left heavy claw-furrows in the back of the other werebeast. Its talons glint wetly in the near-blackness.

The smell of blood, his blood and the blood of his pack. This made him mad, even more so that one of those things were hanging on the back of a beast. His injury roared in the darkness which Whungun could smell the anticpation from the half-men. Whungun roared and his compatriots moved with a unique intelligence of tactics.

The one werewolf with the enemie's on his back and wrestled him to the ground and tore a hole through its neck with the chunk of flesh in the wolf's mouth as he eat it with a beastial glee. The other werewolf ran and jumped on the circling half-man, pinning it down and bearing his fangs to the creature's neck, aiming to rend its flesh and gain its own kill in vengeance of being duped.

With one of the pack freed and ready to help the Shaman as they both charged at the three half-men as the Pack Leader went after the one that he threw against the pillar. Still feeling the edge of the spear-like claws upon his neck as he moved with superhuman speed and ferocity against the half-man and aimed his claws against the chest to try and rip its heart out.

The second wolf went for the one that smelled of Whungun's blood on its claws as the vigor of blood from both sides had made want vengeance for the wounds inflincted and sought to swipe at the legs to cripple it.

[G-Tech Corporation]

Derelict Temple, Und Karaza

The first of Whungun’s companions grappled with the half-man, muzzle opening for a moment as its opponent writhed in the beast’s grasp; one bite, bone crunching under the werewolf’s jaw, and the half-man lay still, neck broken. The other creatures hissed in dismay at this development, and two that had been assailing Whungun changes their focus to his companion.

Their assault, though, was in vain. Claws sliced through the air, intent malicious, but the werewolf evaded their attacks with ease, their feral rage easy to predict now that they were not striking from ambush.

The second member of the shaman’s party swung at the creature circling it, but the swipe of its claws was anticipated, and the evacuated half-man leapt aside, before springing forward to attack. The werewolf barely avoided having its belly eviscerated by those razor sharp weapons, and the two watched each other warily, neither having drawn blood.

Finally Whungun rushed the half-man that he had tossed aside, and his scything claws found the beast’s chest. A worthy attempt, for his swing laid bare the creature’s bones, blood of a deep oily black splattering the half-seen stones of the ruined complex. It was injured, certainly, but not yet out of the fight. The half-man leapt away from its adversary, disappearing into the darkness in a manner that even the astute eyes of the shaman-beast could scarcely follow its movements.

[G-Tech Corporation]

En Route to Oneidas, High Seas
January 5th

Thomas and his crew had worked steadily aboard the Maid’s Honor for several days, the ship bearing cloth and trinkets for trade for furs in the quays of Oneidas. They were only a day or so out of the port when danger appeared; a flotilla of three raiding craft, galleys driven by magical means scudding north from the Heartspire seeking slaves and sacrificial victims. The merchantman turned away, of course, but it soon became clear that they would not be outrunning the native vessels.

“Stand to the guns!” cried the portly captain.

En Route to Jonestown, High Seas
January 9th

Gabriel’s apparently interest in the ball, and lack of hostility, led to a curious reaction. As he gazed upon it, of a sudden, the entity turned, approaching the captain at speed. Before he or his crew could do more than gape in surprise, the orb struck Gabriel in the chest. It was not unlike being struck by a bullet, but without the pain, and for a few minutes all wa black for the captain, his mind somewhere else.

Then he came to, one of the crew standing over him curiously.

“Capitan? You are.. glowing.”

It was true. The tips of the hairs on his head were shining like the coals of a dying fire. Anon the light faded entirely, but Gabriel felt, wholer? weller? better than he had in years, at any rate.

Trait gained: Inner Light (unknown effect)

[Ralnis]

Derelict Temple, Und Karaza

The first of Whungun’s companions grappled with the half-man, muzzle opening for a moment as its opponent writhed in the beast’s grasp; one bite, bone crunching under the werewolf’s jaw, and the half-man lay still, neck broken. The other creatures hissed in dismay at this development, and two that had been assailing Whungun changes their focus to his companion.

Their assault, though, was in vain. Claws sliced through the air, intent malicious, but the werewolf evaded their attacks with ease, their feral rage easy to predict now that they were not striking from ambush.

The second member of the shaman’s party swung at the creature circling it, but the swipe of its claws was anticipated, and the evacuated half-man leapt aside, before springing forward to attack. The werewolf barely avoided having its belly eviscerated by those razor sharp weapons, and the two watched each other warily, neither having drawn blood.

Finally Whungun rushed the half-man that he had tossed aside, and his scything claws found the beast’s chest. A worthy attempt, for his swing laid bare the creature’s bones, blood of a deep oily black splattering the half-seen stones of the ruined complex. It was injured, certainly, but not yet out of the fight. The half-man leapt away from its adversary, disappearing into the darkness in a manner that even the astute eyes of the shaman-beast could scarcely follow its movements.

The sight of the half-men turned from an organized pack to one of feral rage had gave them an opening. Whungun was seeing that the half-men were more agile then them, but they were still beasts and their cunning mix with strength was giving them quite a foe to deal with. Yet the Commander's words' rang in his mind as he try to track the movements of the disappearing foe.

If you burn the nest, then we can talk about wages and training.

If you burn the nest...

The he smelled it, the stones and oily blackness smelled strong, but not the blood of the pack, but something else all together. He tried to sniff it and he could sense the half-man in a way but the howl of one of his own as the battle that been raging against them being outnumbered.

The companion that gain the first kill was sliding across the stone floor, claws ripping through the ground. He saw that he was outnumbered two to one and it was difficult enough to kill the one that injured him. He howled again as the Shaman came tackling one to the ground and looking to pin the half-man down from their feral rage and biting the neck to kill the beast.

The first companion also tackled the other half-men, looking to even the odds and strike down the beast as a fury of claws aiming to rip open the rib cage and crush the foe's dark heart.

The second companion was eyeing his adversary. His eyes met its in combat as the half-man was looking for its opening. The werewolf decided to be clever and decided to attack, but this time in the way of a feint. If he could do it, then he could come behind and tackle the creature, killing him on the ground. If not, then he hopes that he can block the hit or dodge the swipe that has injured his compatriot and master.

[Novas Arcanum]

Gabriel felt like pure energy as if the stars had reached from the heavens and laid their hands on him.He stared at his hands which looked like fire.The captain had never felt this amazing before, it was as if God had set the clock back, his back pain and other maladies were gone, and he felt young and exuberant once more.Gabriel had no idea what happened, but he knew things would never be the same.


"Right hermanos what are we waiting for? Let us sail for Jonestown!," He said as he manned the wheel, his crewmen looked surprised but immediately went back to work, and soon the Comercio sailed onward following the stars to their destination.

[Darksworth]

North of Und Karaza

As Zachary walked south, the harsh landscape gave him some trouble; trees taller than the largest buildings he had seen in Europe towered over the landscape, thickets of wood with spikes sharp enough to draw blood occupying much of the land, the forests echoing with the cries of beasts and creatures which he could not identify. As he walked the sun grew hot overhead, though by his reckoning it was still winter, and his senses began to suffer from the lack of water and food. Eventually, as the sun sank toward the horizon, he happened upon a small creek that teemed with life; frogs sank upon its banks, and the soft burbling was a welcome respite from the calling of the insects and the savage animals.

The Englishman immediately sank his face into the creek with a stealthy approach as to not scare away any nearby creature. He quickly drank the water with swift but big gulps, relieved that for the first time he got lost, he didn't have to drink the salty seawater from the menacing Ocean or yellow-tinted puddles that he happened to find under wooden trunks and rocks.

Once he knew he drank enough, to the point of almost being full but not bloated. Zachary wobbily unsheathed his Cutlass, with a definite intent that he'd at least cut something meaty in half and eat it rather than crunch on insects all day. God forbid, he'd even eat a fellow Human being if he could.

The Conquistador briefly apologized to any native god that he might piss off by killing any of this animals, although he didn't even believe in religion and religious appraisal. But made no effort to stop himself, seeing that he might be slowly coming into delirium from the lack of food in his stomach.

In-game Action/s:

Drink from the Creek

Attempt Hunting with Cutlass

[Tysklandia]

En Route to Oneidas, High Seas
January 5th

Thomas and his crew had worked steadily aboard the Maid’s Honor for several days, the ship bearing cloth and trinkets for trade for furs in the quays of Oneidas. They were only a day or so out of the port when danger appeared; a flotilla of three raiding craft, galleys driven by magical means scudding north from the Heartspire seeking slaves and sacrificial victims. The merchantman turned away, of course, but it soon became clear that they would not be outrunning the native vessels.

“Stand to the guns!” cried the portly captain.

"Scheiße!" Thomas swore loudly as he saw the foreign and otherworldly looking warships edge closer. Outrunning galley's in coastal waters was an impressive feat in normal conditions, but the speed and agility of these ships of a design he had never seen before seemed unnatural to him.

"Toon, Harry, Bart! Maakt ullie klear! Als deze wilde een gevecht willen, zullen wij ze er één geve! GEEN GENADE! TE WAPE!!!"

As he quickly made sure to load his Arquebus he yelled encouraging words to his men in his native language, who had served with him on the same merchant ship that had left them behind. The few years at sea in the old world had not been without its own dangers, but he knew boarding could quickly become a bloody and dangerous affair, one he did not know his men were truly prepared for.

As he made sure his Arquebus was loaded and his cutlass was close at hand, he joined his men in preparing whatever weapons and defenses they could muster, peering at the foreign ships as they came closer, hoping to have at least a guess at the number of enemies they were facing before they would let lose the wrath of the old world upon these savages.

Actions:
1: Thomas and his men prepare whatever defenses the ship has in preperation to do as much damage to the enemy ships before they can board.
2: Thomas tries to gauge the amount of men their ship has and approximatly howmany men those galley's could muster to board their ship once they come close enough to do so.

[ApplePieistan]

With the mercenary taking a more defensive position, Aiyana felt the opportunity to be more aggressive, specifically towards the merchant. After all, the mercenary was more of an obstacle; the jeweler himself had all the good stuff. Keys, pocket money, things like that. Considering how everything at the stand is locked away, securing those keys were a priority. Boldly, Aiyana ran around the side of the stand, shouting “Give it up, you merchant slut!” And attempting to grab his uninjured arm, hopefully opening him up for a spear attack.

Meanwhile, the archers were in a rather precarious position. With spearmen being right there, Aiyana’s boys were out of their element. They got into a more defensive position, backing away and attempting to parry or dodge spear attacks rather than attack. In an act of desperation, one of the archers says “Wait, guys, truce! Truce! Help your friend first; we’ll wait, promise!” The odds of everyone getting away alive were starting to look slim, but the boys weren’t making a full retreat just yet.

[Verore]

With the mercenary taking a more defensive position, Aiyana felt the opportunity to be more aggressive, specifically towards the merchant. After all, the mercenary was more of an obstacle; the jeweler himself had all the good stuff. Keys, pocket money, things like that. Considering how everything at the stand is locked away, securing those keys were a priority. Boldly, Aiyana ran around the side of the stand, shouting “Give it up, you merchant slut!” And attempting to grab his uninjured arm, hopefully opening him up for a spear attack.

Meanwhile, the archers were in a rather precarious position. With spearmen being right there, Aiyana’s boys were out of their element. They got into a more defensive position, backing away and attempting to parry or dodge spear attacks rather than attack. In an act of desperation, one of the archers says “Wait, guys, truce! Truce! Help your friend first; we’ll wait, promise!” The odds of everyone getting away alive were starting to look slim, but the boys weren’t making a full retreat just yet.

"Oi, you three get over here and help," Zaahir shouted to the running men that weren't carrying any loot, "help keep him busy while we grab more stuff."

Of the three men, one was Zaahir's lone archer but in an act of either loyalty or stupidity, he disregarded using the bow and instead used an arrow as a stabbing weapon to help the other two fight the mercenary. He couldn't help but feel a ting of sadness to see these loyal followers of his being used as a meat shield but there was no helping it. Zaahir used the distraction of more people to slip away and help fight the merchant, lunging forward to try to stab the unarmored merchant in the chest.

[G-Tech Corporation]

Derelict Temple, Und Karaza

Whungun plows into one of the foul creatures from the side, knocking it from its feet. The half-man snarls and snaps as the shaman's teeth sink into its writhing chest, just missing the neck, a mouthful of foul-tasting liquid flooding the warrior's mouth as the creature lashes at his sides with its wicked claws. The blows are ineffective though, the pallid denizen of the darkness weakened by the gruesome wound, and its attacks come more feebly as Whungun tears a large chunk of flesh away from the creature.

At Whungun's side the injured werebeast attempts to grapple with its foe, but the half-man nimbly avoids the rush of the shaman's ally, eviscerating claws scything upward as the werecreature passes by on the attack to strike heavily in the shaman's friend's neck. It howls in piteous pain, a spray of arterial blood splattering against Whungun, and turns to gaze at the foul creature for an instant, then collapses as the blood rushing away from its head forces consciousness from the werebeast's body. Death will follow swiftly, if the werebeast's wounds are not immediately bound. The half-man hisses a curious call, obviously one of triumph, and Whungun thinks for a moment that he may here other voices answering the call from far away in the blackness.

Off to the side of the main melee, the feinting werewolf lures the half-man into an attack- but it is fast, supernaturally so, and the claw-swipe of the werewolf passes harmlessly through where the creature might have been if it were a hair's breadth slower. Black-tinted talons rake the chest of the werewolf, wounds which are shallow but bleed freely. As the werebeast reels back from the assailant, from the darkness the other injured half-man that Whungun had previously engaged appears, charging the injured skinchanger. It moves slowly though, and the werewolf moves slightly upon perceiving the danger- no contact does the creature's charge make, but the odds of two on one are not looking good.

[G-Tech Corporation]

Jonestown
January 13

The Comercio pulled into Jonestown Harbor, unmolested after her encounter with the strange orb. The feeling of utter wellness had faded from Gabriel's mind, at least in part; perhaps he had merely grown accustomed to it. At any rate, here was a place where a man could make his fortune, if anywhere was such a place. The harbor was nearly full to bursting with ships of various makes and flags, traders bound for the New World, returning voyages stocking up for the trip back across the Atlantic. In such auspicious company the scud-runner that Gabriel commanded was a small vessel, but nonetheless proud.

However, there was the matter of the crew's wages.

North of Und Kazara

No untoward events attended Zachary's hunt along the river; ere long he managed to sneak up on a small grazing ungulate, similar to the deer of Europe, and dispatched it with a single sword stroke. It was scrawny, and did not appear to have been eating well, but after butchering yielded a few good shanks of meat and a mess of bloody hide that might be worth a small sum to natives or European traders alike. Carrying all of the morass would be tricky, though.

+3 Meat, +1 Hide

En Route to Oneidas, High Seas
January 5th

Thomas and his small crew swiftly swabbed and prepared two of the port-side cannons facing the foe in tandem with the merchantman's sailors, prepared for action. None of them were exactly skilled gunners, but even a few shots closely placed might be enough to scare off the natives. As the galleys approached, their sails unnaturally taunt before some conjured wind, the situation began to look more bleak; dozens of the indigenous warriors, painted ferociously and bearing spears and bows, crowded the decks of the enemy ships, apparently eager for battle. Against such numbers the merchantman had perhaps twenty men, most of whom were similarly unskilled as Thomas and his lads.

Market Square, Oneidas

As Zaahir and Aiyana suddenly abandoned their target to harass the merchant, the mercenary saw his opportunity, and swooped in low towards Zaahir. His heavy cudgel rapped against the robber's rib cage, fortuitously a light blow due to the trajectory of the warrior, but Zaahir was still knocked slightly to one side and tasted blood in his mouth, his attempt to assault the merchant much hindered. Aiyana grappled with the slightly portly man for a moment, attempting to restrain him, but the man wrestled his arms free and swung the club at her in a fit of blind fear. A smack to the forearm from the heavy wooden weapon made a cracking sound, and Aiyana's eyes swam for a moment with the pain.

Then Zaahir's men were there. The three brave souls swarmed the mercenaries, mostly untrained warriors against a battle-hardened soldier. The first spear thrust the mercenary dodged easily, the warrior putting too much impetus behind his lunge to turn properly. The second spear thrust he only narrowly avoided, his attention diverted by the first soldier, but it still passed just barely through the air at the side of his chest. The archer, a brave man if ever there was one, managed to plant one of his arrows in the mercenary's wounded arm, causing the warrior to grimace in pain. They were small wounds, but they were adding up, despite the mercenary's skill and equipment.

Elsewhere the archer's attempt at parley was dismissed out of hand by the onrushing city guards- apparently negotiating after shooting arrows at someone's head wasn't in the skillset of the warriors Aiyana had brought with her. Three guards were now upon the archer contingent, obviously intent on wounding or killing the marketplace-attackers rather than talking. Soon one of the archers bears an arm hanging limp from a heavy cut to the mid-bicep that bleeds freely, his face going white from the shock of the pain, and the others are fighting desperately hand and fist to keep from being spitted by spears seeking their oh-so-vulnerable flesh.

On the positive side, the two of Zaahir's men bearing the chests are nearing the edge of the marketplace; with luck they will be able to outrun their pursuers.

[Ralnis]

Derelict Temple, Und Karaza

Whungun plows into one of the foul creatures from the side, knocking it from its feet. The half-man snarls and snaps as the shaman's teeth sink into its writhing chest, just missing the neck, a mouthful of foul-tasting liquid flooding the warrior's mouth as the creature lashes at his sides with its wicked claws. The blows are ineffective though, the pallid denizen of the darkness weakened by the gruesome wound, and its attacks come more feebly as Whungun tears a large chunk of flesh away from the creature.

At Whungun's side the injured werebeast attempts to grapple with its foe, but the half-man nimbly avoids the rush of the shaman's ally, eviscerating claws scything upward as the werecreature passes by on the attack to strike heavily in the shaman's friend's neck. It howls in piteous pain, a spray of arterial blood splattering against Whungun, and turns to gaze at the foul creature for an instant, then collapses as the blood rushing away from its head forces consciousness from the werebeast's body. Death will follow swiftly, if the werebeast's wounds are not immediately bound. The half-man hisses a curious call, obviously one of triumph, and Whungun thinks for a moment that he may here other voices answering the call from far away in the blackness.

Off to the side of the main melee, the feinting werewolf lures the half-man into an attack- but it is fast, supernaturally so, and the claw-swipe of the werewolf passes harmlessly through where the creature might have been if it were a hair's breadth slower. Black-tinted talons rake the chest of the werewolf, wounds which are shallow but bleed freely. As the werebeast reels back from the assailant, from the darkness the other injured half-man that Whungun had previously engaged appears, charging the injured skinchanger. It moves slowly though, and the werewolf moves slightly upon perceiving the danger- no contact does the creature's charge make, but the odds of two on one are not looking good.

As the mortal wound seemed to be the thing that could land a killing blow, Whungun had heard of the sounds of victory from the half-men, the sounds from the background, and the near-death state of his fallen comrade made him howl a whimpering tone. It then the werewolf companion started to run for the doorway as Whungun came behind as he picked up his fallen ally and made a run for the exit.

The companion in front of them grabbed their stuff and try to make for the exit and hopping to hide in the night to heal and regroup.

[Tysklandia]

Jonestown

En Route to Oneidas, High Seas
January 5th

Thomas and his small crew swiftly swabbed and prepared two of the port-side cannons facing the foe in tandem with the merchantman's sailors, prepared for action. None of them were exactly skilled gunners, but even a few shots closely placed might be enough to scare off the natives. As the galleys approached, their sails unnaturally taunt before some conjured wind, the situation began to look more bleak; dozens of the indigenous warriors, painted ferociously and bearing spears and bows, crowded the decks of the enemy ships, apparently eager for battle. Against such numbers the merchantman had perhaps twenty men, most of whom were similarly unskilled as Thomas and his lads.

"bij Maria..." Thomas mumbled, fear building up in the back of in mind. He didn't like these odds, not at all... He knew that the odds to win this were small at best. And with he and his men not that particularly effective artillerymen, he doubted he could do enough damage with his cannons to even the odds. But he needed to, he needed to damage either the enemy ships to the point where they could no longer chase them, or kill enough men aboard them to even the odds.

He had heard stories of the unnatural nature of these lands, whispers of witches and magic abound. Works of the devil...? Whatever would these savages do to them, should they be captured alive...? He shuddered at the thought, but steeled his resolve. He didn't survive the wars of the old world and the horrifying voyage to the new world, the betrayal of his olds ships crew, only to die at the hands of these savages. Not today, he swore. Not Today.

As he stood with the rest of the ships crew, prepared to sell his hide dearl, he prepared his men for a ranging shot with the cannons, if their was still enough distance between the enemy and their ship, he would need to fire as many times as they could and show them the fury of the old world.

As the foreign ships edged ever closer and into cannon range, Thomas eyed his Arquebus, he wasn't the best gunman, he was well aware, but any shot he could fire before the bloody boarding began would be a possible advantage gained. He scanned the approaching ships, looking for a leader or better yet, whatever foul witch that was conjuring these unnatural winds aiding their approach. If the witch could be killed, maybe they could escape with their foul magic denied to them or if he could kill their leader with a bang of gunpowder and lead shot, they would think twice of considering them easy prey.

"HOLD FAST BOYS! DON'T EXPECT MERCY FROM THESE SAVAGES, LET US SHOW THEM NONE IN RETURN! FOR CHRIST, FOR GLORY! FIRE!!!"

As his ears rang from the loud, smokey explosion erupting from the cannons in front of him, he narrowed his eyes and swore to himself again.

'Not Today'


Actions:

Fire at the enemy ships, to kill or wound as many aboard as possible with the cannons.
Fire at an enemy caster or leading figure with his arquebus before they can board.
Inspire the crew to fight as hard as they can.

[Novas Arcanum]

Port of Jonestown

"Hermanos you have made me so proud,here is one coin for such exemplary work!" Gabriel said as he handed the three measly coins to the crewmen.Gabriel thanked God that they expected such low."Well? Babuinos más rápidos! We have goods to sell! " He said to his workers as they quickly carried the cargo into the settlement. Gabriel walked the streets of Jonestown,and knew there was much coin to be made today,he soon went to work.

Action:Assess Local Prices

[Darksworth]

North of Und Kazara

No untoward events attended Zachary's hunt along the river; ere long he managed to sneak up on a small grazing ungulate, similar to the deer of Europe, and dispatched it with a single sword stroke. It was scrawny, and did not appear to have been eating well, but after butchering yielded a few good shanks of meat and a mess of bloody hide that might be worth a small sum to natives or European traders alike. Carrying all of the morass would be tricky, though.

+3 Meat, +1 Hide

The English Conquistador quickly devoured one of the pieces of stringy but juicy strips of meat, grinding and chewing at it like a madman. And once he was finished, he quickly examined the other shanks, checking to see if there any kind of bad-essence on them before standing up.

Zachary quickly removed his steel breastplate and ubuttoned his shirt, he quickly folded and tied the shirt into a makeshift pack and put all the remaining shanks of meat he had inside the pack along with the leather hide. He then equipped his breastplate back and carried the pack in his back, now a bit' confident that he wouldn't die of hunger or thirst on the way to Und-Kazara.

As he was about to march off, he caught sight of his reflection in the waters of the creek.

Scarily enough, his armor, pants and along with the lower portions of his face was covered in Ungulate blood and mud. And his eyes, a accompanied with the glint of his Cutlass, shows a gleam of psychopathy. Zachary can only let out a small laugh as he remembered the stories from a native slave back in Wales about "Wendigos", men who eats flesh in the forests, only to become monsters of pale complexity and hairless features with a knack of cannibalism.

The English man quickly shaked his head and removed the thought in mind, seeing that maybe insanity might've took hold of him in this god-forsaken place. He leisurely unpocketed his map and took a close look at his destination, which is Und-karaza. Before putting it back to one of his bloodied pockets and tightened his hold on his Cutlass. He began walking off to the general location of the native settlement, cutting down blades of grass and other obstacles that manages to get in his way, maybe he'd slice up a Human or two too if it comes to that.

In-game Actions~

• Consume: One Shank of Meat (Raw)

• Convert: Standard Button-Up Shirt > Makeshift Pack

• Force March: To Und Karaza